


Friends Without Benefits

by Quanna



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Other, coming out? i guess?, even bigger galaxy brain: but what if they're both gay, galaxy brain: the doctor and the master have no concept of gender, lesbian-gay solidarity, truly extremely crack pls don't take this seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quanna/pseuds/Quanna
Summary: The Doctor is gay. The Master takes a bit longer to figure it out.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	Friends Without Benefits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suddenwretched](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suddenwretched/gifts).



> It's in the tags but this is crack. Unless...

Kissing the Doctor is always a bit like wrestling with a fish, but this one’s in a league of her own. She’s enthusiastic (she always is), going in teeth, tongue, and  – somewhat alarmingly  – a finger by his lips. Like she’s trying to measure his mouth, inside and out.

It’s not exactly doing it for him.

He tells her as much, teeth bared against the offending digit.

She scronches her face, pulling back a bit to look at him. 

“You’re very pretty,” she says, eyebrows knitted together. “Good eyes.” Her finger traces the outline of his lips, pressing briefly into his cupid’s bow. “Good lips, too.” She taps his chin. “And the beard. Very on brand.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What? I do like a beard!”

He pulls back too, giving the Doctor a bit more breathing space to do… whatever she's doing. 

“I’m thinking,” she explains unhelpfully, one hand now at the base of his skull. “Testing a theory, if you will.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes a little bit of annoyance her way, just because. 

“Ugh,” she splutters as their minds brush. “Tastes bitter. I’m going to walk away if you keep doing that.” 

Like she'd ever leave her ship alone with him. 

She catches the end of his thought and chuckles, fingers mapping the sides of his face. "Not a chance."

This one-sided experiment of hers is starting to bore him, and he blows some air into her face to signal as much. 

"Stop distracting me," she snaps, and promptly steps back into his space to kiss him. It's a lot more…involved than previously, her hands burrowing into his hair as she presses their bodies flush together. It's very unlike her and throws him a bit, but he's not entirely  _ not _ into it either. 

The TARDIS beeps loudly in protest as she crowds him against the console, forcing a sharp telepathic spike into their minds that has the Doctor jumping from him with a yelp. 

"Watch it!" She tells the ceiling, clutching her head. "That really hurt."

The TARDIS growls another warning and he steps away from the console, hands raised mockingly in the air and temples tingling pleasantly. 

"Someone's jealous," he grins, and the Doctor rolls her eyes. 

"She just doesn't like you." 

The fact that the Doctor may have a point stings more than he's willing to admit, and he inhales sharply to hide it. "Get to the point," he tells her. "I'm getting impatient."

Her eyes snap to his, any hint of playfulness gone. "Don't threaten me unless you're going to follow through with it." 

He waits for the surge of heat that usually follows such a statement. 

It doesn't come. He frowns at the absence of it. 

She studies his reaction, and then she's laughing like the time vortex itself has opened up in front of her. "I knew it! I knew it was different!" 

"What  – "

"Us! The  –” she waves her hand between them, " _ canoodling _ . It's different."

Canoodling. If he hadn't left the Tissue Compressor behind on his own ship  –

"You feel it too, I know 'cuz you pulled that face you do," she says, practically vibrating with excitement. "Like it doesn't fit. That's never happened before. Aren't you excited?" 

Excited is definitely not what he's feeling right now. 

He takes a few breaths to calm the familiar murderous rage she's inspired in him and is about to reply when she cuts him off again. 

"I think I'm gay!"

She says it with such conviction it takes him a full three seconds to process the statement as serious. 

“Queer? Friend of Dorothy? A lesbian? I don’t know what the exact term is this time zone.”

Seven thousand years, and she still manages to pull the rug from under him.

“Doctor," he sighs, at a loss how else to explain this to her, "there are no lesbians on Gallifrey.”

“We aren’t  _ on _ Gallifrey,” she replies as though he is a particularly dense Time Tot. “I’m a woman, I like women, ergo  – I’m gay!” 

The Master isn't a stranger to the power of the human gender spectrum, having dabbled in it a few times himself, but the thought of taking it seriously is ridiculous. And yet... 

He has to agree it is different, and not just because he doesn't have an active desire to kill her. 

“Maybe it’s the rainbows,” the Doctor muses, staring down at her own chest  – which also doesn't do anything for him. 

He hides his face in his hands with a groan, cycling through all their recent attempts at "canoodling". Now that she's pointed it out, it is laughably obvious  – discounting the customary homicidal variety, he hasn't really felt any desire towards her. 

"Having a bit of a personal crisis, are you?" She laughs, insufferably pleased with herself. "Oh come on, this is fun. Uncharted territory!” 

He wipes a hand over his face and stares at her. He  _ hates _ it when she’s faster than him. 

“We didn’t even have…” Her mouth closes around the letter “s” and refuses to go on. “...canoodle. Until after we left Gallifrey. We can workshop some ways to…” She flaps her hands around. “Oh! How about we play some really intense chess, haven’t done that in a while.”

The Master likes to think this doesn’t happen very often, but it takes him a long second to come up with an answer. The Doctor tilts her head at him expectantly. His next words come out a petulant mutter.

She narrows her eyes. “What did you say?”

“I  _ said _ , I could just go find the twink with the bowtie and suspenders.” 

“Oi! That’s offensive. I was going through some stuff.” Her eyes light up, chasing a newly-formed thought. “Maybe I should go visit Jenny and Vastra again, get them to give me tips.” 

Not one to pass up an easy exit, the Master straightens his collar and coughs delicately.

“And that, my dear, is my cue to leave.” 

The Doctor hums like the all-knowing nuisance she is, picking up his coat from where it lay forgotten on the console. The TARDIS beeps at her with gratitude.

“You’re admitting I win this one then?” She chides him, handing him the coat only when he rolls his eyes. She smiles.

He chuckles darkly as he makes his way across the console room, pulling the TARDIS doors shut behind him.

“Better luck next time.”


End file.
